A Fine Line
by with eyes looking up
Summary: Ron is adamant; Draco is irritable; Scorpius just wants a little time with his girlfriend. Rose/Scorpius.


As the minutes passed, Draco Malfoy could feel his control slipping through his fingers. Of course, his patience had grown immensely from his Hogwarts days, but this situation wasn't what he thought he'd have to deal with. Ever. He sent an exasperated look to the rickety ceiling above his head and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could get two words out, the three individuals around the table all began to talk at once.

"Father, really, she's very-"

"I don't know what you're playing at, Malfoy-"

"Dad, why can't you just accept-!"

For the fifth time in an hour, Draco sent a quick prayer to whatever deity was listening. "Do not," he growled above their protests, "make me use a silencing charm on you lot. Again." Effectively silenced, he turned his gaze to the two teenagers seated on his right. From his position at one end of the table, he could see their fingers clasped tightly between their chairs.

Scorpius Malfoy glared defiantly at his father, clutching his girlfriend's hand under the table. "Father-" he began, but was again silenced as his girlfriend's father broke in. Draco restrained a sigh of annoyance-this was getting absolutely no where.

"Rosie, let go of his hand." Ron Weasley ordered tightly, obviously noticing the gesture as well. His arms were crossed angrily across his chest. "I will not have that kind of behavior in this house."

"Dad," Draco saw her frustrated eyes roll to the ceiling and couldn't help but think of how many times he'd seen the gesture in school, "you're being bloody ridiculous-"

"Rose Ginevra Weasley!" Ron seemed outraged. "Watch your bloody mouth-"

"As interesting as this is," Malfoy growled, standing gracefully, "I'm done here. I actually have a job, Weasley, and while this is a brilliant time, I need to get some work done." He switched his gaze from a very flustered Ron to the teenagers. "Scorpius, I will forgive this little...fling... as long as your grades stay impeccable. The Weasley girl should be able to help with that." Draco shrugged on his coat, pretending not to notice the quick peck his son gave his girlfriend. "And you, Weasley-" he raised a thin brow threateningly, "-join me, why don't you."

Both men traveled to the living room, and Draco turned just in time to see Weasley give his son a threatening glance that was hardly affable. "Listen, Malfoy, I don't care what you say. My daughter will not be snogging your-"

"My what, Weasley? My son?" Draco cut an annoyed glance at the ginger, crossing his arms. "I'm aware that we had our...differences in school..."

Ron glared at him, unamused. "Differences? Those were _differences_?"

"Fine. We had several rows in school. But that was years ago. That was before the War." Draco aimed a significant look towards the annoyed ginger. "If I'm allowing my son to...date...your little witch, I expect nothing but respect. I am tired of arguing over your prejudices."

"_My_-"

"I got over mine a long time ago, Weasley. And although I hardly enjoy the thought of "family dinners" in the Weasley household, my son is happy. That more than what I can say for when I was his age." Draco uncrossed his arms and gestured for his son to join him at his side. Quickly the blond sent Rose a smile before joining his father before the fireplace.

The redhead gave his old rival a stare that was hardly intimidating, before sighing. "Fine, I s'pose you're right. Bloody hell-" he muttered, eyeing the blond boy at his side. "I'm...sorry for being a prick. But there needs to be ground rules, Malfoy-!"

"I'm well aware," the elder commented dryly, dropping a hand to his son's shoulder. "But now is not the time nor place."

Rose poked he head out of the kitchen and grimaced at the stare down taking place. "I'll owl you, Scorp," she muttered, eyes landing on her boyfriend hesitantly. Scorpius gave her a warm look that sent shivers all the way down to her toes.

"I'll be waiting for it, Rosie," he promised, and his words were almost drowned out by the sheer noise of their Apparation. Ron eyed the spot where they disappeared before turning to the daughter trying to sneak out.

"Rose, wait," he muttered wearily, sitting on the couch. He patted the cushion beside him and frowned when she hesitated. "Aw, come on, Rosie." She slowly came over to sit beside him, and he softened slightly. "I ever tell you how much you look like your mum?"

A relieved smile lit up her face. "Maybe once or twice..."

Ron sighed, giving his only daughter a quick look over. "...you really like the Malfoy bloke?"

"Oh, Daddy," she sighed, flopping back on the cushions happily, "he's so brilliant. He can understand my thoughts and he likes to read, and Daddy—_he doesn't make fun of my hair_."

Ron gave an amused grunt, noticing the stars in his daughter's eyes with a sigh. "Alright, alright. I guess...he's not too terrible. But if he ever-"

"Daddy," Rose smiled at him, "it'll be fine." She stood and pecked her father's cheek, then hurried upstairs to write her wizard an excited letter before her father could get out another word.

Ron sighed, rubbing his neck wearily. "Bloody Malfoys..."

–

Draco glanced down at his son as they arrived at home, noticing the broad grin on his son's face. He had taken no more than two steps when he felt a pressure against his back and glanced down at the arms around his waist. "Scorpius-..."

"Thank you," his son rushed out, "thank you, thank you! I swear you won't regret this, Father!"

And without another word, the blond had stumbled off, hooting. Draco felt his lips twitch, glancing out the window as a very familiar owl soared up to his son's room. For a moment he was transported back to his Hogwarts days, remembering the rows he went with Potter and Weasley. He remembered the cruelty he had shown towards Granger, he remembered the names he used to spit at her. Draco reached up and brushed his fingers over the hardly noticeable scar across his nose and felt the familiar guilt building in his chest.

"You've fixed it," his wife, Astoria, murmured. Draco glanced over in muted surprise, not recalling hearing her enter. "There's nothing to be guilty about anymore." She laced her thin fingers through his and smiled, watching the same owl take off. "Writing already, are they?" Draco felt something tug at his chest and nodded. His wife gave him a calm once over and pressed her lips to his jaw. "And you're not going to stop them?"

"No," he murmured, "I won't."

He had a feeling there would be no stopping it.


End file.
